


Torn to Bits

by tellmesomethingnew



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 15:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4185444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tellmesomethingnew/pseuds/tellmesomethingnew
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Recently just lost her father to the Death Eaters of Voldemort's army, Hermione and her mother must house the enemy when a horde of Voldemort's Knights passes through her village to rest and work for a few months. The commanding Knight who was assigned to their house doesn't seem what he lets Hermione believe in more than one aspect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Torn to Bits

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyMiya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMiya/gifts), [Tomione_Forum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tomione_Forum/gifts).



> Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
> 
> A/N: This story was written for the Tomione Forum's

**Of News and Sleep**

Word of them came in the middle of the night when Hermione had been fast asleep upon a night so rare in the Granger household in the small village of Hogsmeade. Hermione had finally begun to sleep well after so long. Being the daughter of the most richest family in Hogsmeade had never been an easy task. Part of the package came with stress and pressure to remember she was far above anyone else in the village.

 

“They're to post camp in Hogsmeade for some months. They'll be here tomorrow.” said Hermione's mother when she poked her head in through Hermione's bedroom door. Hermione, sleepily, had sat up in her bed, confused.

  
“What are you on about?” She wasn't exactly happy that she had been woken when she had just fallen into a peaceful slumber.

 

“The Death Eaters.”

 

Hermione couldn't sleep for the rest of the night with such a dread so heavy weighing withing her stomach.

 

**Of Muggle-Borns and Breakfast**

“You're quiet today,” observed Mrs Granger the following morning. Hermione was quiet as she sat at the dining room table, peckish at eating her eggs and ham.

 

Hermione took a moment as she dropped her silver fork on the china plate, putting her hands in her lap as she looked up at her mother. It was written all over her face, bleeding from her soft honey eyes. She didn't need to explain herself to her own mother.

 

Mrs Granger dropped her silver fork softly and put a hand under her chin, looking thoughtful at her only child.

  
“It's only for a few months.”

 

“But won't they know that we're m-” The unspoken word hung in the air like a bullet and Hermione closed her eyes, sighing.

 

Her mother went back to eating her breakfast, shaking her head. “They won't have to know. We just need to provide them with a place to sleep and then they'll be on their way.”

 

Mrs. Granger was far more unhappy than Hermione was, what with her husband being dead because of the Death Eaters and their leader Voldemort.

 

The Grangers were the only Muggle-borns living in Hogsmeade.

 

 _They won't have to know_.

 

**Of Death Eaters and Villagers**

They came when noon had hit and the sun was high in the scorching spring sky. Winter had ended just a few weeks ago and everyone was out of their houses, enjoying the warm day and the fresh produce being sold in the market. Hermione had a basket sitting in the crook of her arm, half-filled with ripe strawberries and new jars of pumpkin juice to store in the pantry. She wasn't exactly supposed to do this shopping, as it was supposed to be the maid's duty. But the maid, Minerva, allowed Hermione to come with her today. Anything than to be cooped up in the quiet Granger household, feeling restless about the on-coming Death Eaters.

 

“What about this, Miss Granger?” asked Minerva as she held up a bag of Honeyduke's fresh candy. Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans. They extended their sales out to the marketplace as their way of getting more people to buy their stuff. It worked since Honeydukes was on the other side of the village and most mothers or fathers who came to the marketplace brought their children. If they had the money, the candy would surely end up in their hands at some point.

 

Hermione opened her mouth, ready to tell Minerva to get a few bags, to surprise her mother when they heard the sound of the air being cut in half by a horde of Death Eaters apparating, heading in the village's direction.

 

The sound had made the entire village stop what they were doing, looking up to the sky as they saw the trail of black-like smoke. Hermione held her breath as the only sound other than the apparating to be heard in the village was crying children who clung to their guardians, afraid.

 

Hermione dropped her basket and ruined the fresh items, the pumpkin juice bottles shattered when her eyes landed on the horde of Death Eaters standing at the entrance of the village, which happened to be near the marketplace.

 

She eyed them with their odd masks and dark robes. They took their masks off one by one, slowly beginning to enter into the village, many stranger's faces revealed as their masks disappeared in a cloud of misty smoke.

 

**Of Knights and Silence**

Hermione had rushed home when she could after the entire horde had assessed the villagers. She came rushing in through the front door, leaving Minerva to try and calmly finish the shopping. Hermione had found her mother sitting in the parlor, knitting.

 

“What in Merlin's name?” asked her mother when Hermione stopped at the archway of the parlor, her chest heaving from the run and her eyes wide and frightened.

 

“They're here.”

 

Her mother didn't need to be told twice as Mrs. Granger immediately rose to her feet, rushing to put her knitting away as she pushed her daughter into the dining room just when the sound of the kitchen door opened.

 

“Minerva! Tea. Quickly too, please!” called Mrs. Granger.

 

“Right away, Madam!” Minerva called, the sound of baskets and bags being set onto the counter-tops of the kitchen echoing into the entrance hall.

 

Tea was always the best solution at times like these, when nerves were on end and heart rates were high for hours upon hours, bones trembling and heads filled with what-ifs.

 

Hermione sat down beside her mother at the dining room table, which opened from the entrance hall, and they waited in silence for not only their calming tea, but the arrival of their Knight who they'd be sharing their home with until the Death Eaters would move on.

 

And their Knight came when Hermione's tea was finally cooled down enough to drink. She had the sweet chamomile tea against her lips when the sound of the knock on the door. Minerva came and answered, allowing the Knight inside.

  
Minerva poked her head into the dining room, her eyes wide as she looked to her mistress. “Madam,” she started. Mrs Granger waved her hand and Minerva curtsied to the Knight as a sign of respect, no matter how fake it was, as she went on her way to starting supper.

 

Her mother kept her eyes down on the hand-painted china cup holding her mint and lavender tea while Hermione couldn't help but look up to see what their Knight looked like.

 

A flawless face of a young man who didn't look to be much older than her. He had dark wavy hair, parted at the side, porcelain skin, stormy eyes, and a face that didn't suggest he was as harmful as his title made him out to be.

 

The Knight had put his hood down, showing a slender neck and an adam's apple that bobbed as if nervous. He looked to the two and Hermione looked away, setting her tea cup down as her mother finally found enough strength to get up and face the enemy herself.

 

“Madam Granger?” the Knight started. “My name is Commander Tom Riddle. I'm told you were to expect me.” The accent gave Hermione the impression that this man was of high schooling. It was amazing how one can speak and suggest how much of the world they knew. _A reader, no doubt_.

 

Hermione slowly got to her feet, keeping quiet as she watched her Mother nod her head in acceptance to the situation.

 

Finally, the man's eyes met with Hermione's and as he nodded his head in acknowledgment to her while calling her “Madam” as well, she looked down to the ornate run and kept as still as her racing heart could allow her.

 

“I will try not to inconvenience you,” said the Knight as he took off his robe and allowed it to disappear within the air like his mask, a misty smoke of Darkness. “All I require is a room and somewhere to work.”

 

Mrs Granger said nothing, and Hermione saw that the man understood he wasn't exactly welcomed her. He nodded his head, murmuring an “excuse me” before he turned to the opened door, motioning his head towards the stairs. Another Knight, who was probably of less status, came in with a small trunk with, no doubt, an expendable charm placed on it. Hermione could feel the magic reeking from both it and this _Tom Riddle_.

 

A Commander. How unlucky were they to get him, regardless of how they were the best place in all of the village for a Knight to share. Hermione wished that they were just stuck with a simple soldier, the lowest of all the rankings among them.

 

 _At least it isn't Voldemort_ , thought Hermione as she turned herself around and sat back down at the table, watching the soft steam rise from her cup of tea while trying to block out the sound of the Knight's footsteps upon their staircase.

  
“If we don't talk to him, he won't be much of a nuisance to us,” said Mrs. Granger after some time as she came over and rejoined Hermione with her tea.

 

**Of Sleep and Footsteps**

Hermione couldn't sleep much that night, light the night before. It wasn't because of a heavy weight that still sat in the pit of her stomach, but more so how much aware she was of the sounds inside the house. The Knight took up the room next to her's, in the guest room, which was joined with the study which had once been her father's. Of course this morning, before they had even eaten their breakfast, they had cleared the room of anything of sentimental value. They'd be damned to have a Death Eater touch anything of such.

 

She heard him pacing the room as if he were to be in deep though. And finally, when the full moon was high in the air, she heard the pacing stop, assuming he had gone to bed.

 

She turned over in her's for what felt like the millionth time that night and curled up into a ball on the side of her bed that face the pale pink wall and eventually fell asleep.

 

She woke up in the early part of the morning, before the sun had even begun to rise and the atmosphere was coated in a soft blue lighting. At first she had wondered why she had awoken, but then she heard the sound of the closing door next to her room and the sound of the Knight heading down the stairs and out the door to go about his day.

 

She wasn't sure when she had been able to fall asleep once more.

 

**Of Books and Pearls**

A few days had passed as the same routine with the Knight had gone on and on. Hermione would wake in the early morning to him leaving the house, and wouldn't see him again until after supper. Hermione felt more relieved about it, knowing she didn't have to see much of him. The only problem that remained, besides both his and the rest of his kind's presence in this village, was the worry that clung to Hermione's shoulders like the heaviest weight in the world – would the people of the village keep their secret of knowing that the Granger's weren't Purebloods?

 

Commander Riddle came back into the house earlier the fourth night of his presence in the Granger Household. He stopped at the archway of the dining room as Hermione and her mother sat motionless, faceless before their plates of half-eaten food.

 

“Madam, if you would be so kind as to lend me the key to the library, I can promise you the utmost respect to your books.”

 

Hermione and her mother caught eye contact. It wasn't her mother's library. It was Hermione's. She gave her mother a slight, soft and faint nod, to let her mother know that it was alright.

 

Mrs Granger's eyes wondered down to her half-eaten piece of chicken and her pink lips parted. “Minerva has the key,” was all she would say to the Knight.

 

Hermione didn't expect a Death Eater to care for reading. She expected him to be more interested in wasting his time with killing innocents or going around fucking women who sold themselves in the darkest places of the small village, or even drinking himself at one of the two bars, The Three Broomsticks Inn or Hogshead.

 

This Tom Riddle had to be the first person she'd come across after so long of time, to enjoy reading like her.

 

The man bowed his head, trying to show respect before him and Hermione caught eye contact. Her head felt dizzy just looking at him, unable to understand why but assuming the imaginable – his very presence disgusted her.

 

When he left and she heard him talk with Minerva about the key, she tried to go back to eating her dinner, wondering if it was him, or one of the other Knights here in Hogsmeade that killed her father.

 

Her hand touched the small key that hung from the strand of tiny pearls that hung around Hermione's neck, the key that belonged to the library her father had built for her, and the strand of pearls her father had bought for her the birthday before his death. While Minerval had the spare key to the library, Hermione would die before she'd let a Death Eater touch her precious necklace.

 

**Of Raspberries and Conversations**

It had to have been the most beautiful day yet this year. The sun was bright in the sky among a clear blue sky fresh from a night filled with drizzling rain. The grass and leaves of the garden at the back of the Granger House remained faintly, being drunk up by the heat of the sun as Hermione chose it to be the perfect time for a good read.

 

The Knight was gone, so Hermione slipped into her library, checking to make sure each book was in place of where she had last left it. She half-expected the Knight to have taken a book to the guest room, to misplace the books, or to even steal. She hadn't expected to find everything in perfect order. She pulled a leather-bound book titled Pride and Prejudice from the bookshelf by the only window in the room, housing all her most favorite, beloved books. She grabbed a bookmark from a small cylinder cup on an end table by the leather red couch that faced the empty fireplace and headed out to the warm and inviting sunlight.

 

Hermione found a spot under their cedar tree, filled with blooms and buzzing bees. She sat down in a spot of sunlight where she was able to rest her back against the rough bark and the slightly-wet grass, getting comfortable as she covered her knees with the skirt of her soft pink dress. She opened the book to the first page and read.

 

She read until a shadow blocked the sunlight. Slowly, she looked up and found her eyes resting upon the Knight of their house. Trying her best to pretend she hadn't just seen him, she looked back down at her book and tried to continue to read.

 

“Your raspberry bushes seems to be in full bloom,” said the Knight. Was he trying to make conversation with her?

 

When Hermione hadn't answered, the man shifted slightly, leaning his wait onto one foot as he crossed his arms over his chest.

 

“I enjoy raspberries. Would you mind if I picked some?” he asked her politely. “I'd ask your mother, but she isn't home yet.”

 

Hermione wondered why he was even here and not out like he usually is.

 

Had he already grown tired of what the village had to offer to travelers?

 

When he remained and showed no signs of leaving Hermione alone, she sucked in a breath and tried to focus on the scene of Darcy's first proposal to Elizabeth in the book. “Go ahead,” she told him stiffly.

 

The sunlight returned to her and she relaxed, realizing she had stiffened her bones up in his presence, ready for him to pull his wand out and use an Unforgivable on her.

 

But no sooner did he leave, he returned. He didn't block her sunlight this time. Instead, he came and sat down beside her in the soft grass, as if he had the right.

 

The hand that held her book open tightened into a white-knuckled fist as she held her tongue. Had she had enough courage or even the right, she'd have told him to leave her alone, to go about his own business and to leave her out of it. She even wished she could complain to him how much she despised him and his kind.

 

She looked up at him, trying to hold a blank space despite the glare that sparked in her eyes. She opened her mouth, ready to ask him to leave as politely as possible in all of the world when she eyed the hand he was extending out to her, filled with fresh, ripe raspberries.

 

“I've picked us both some,” he told her.

 

The Knight wasn't wearing his dark robes today. Instead, he wore a white button-down shirt with its sleeves rolled at the elbows, an opened waistcoat, and brown linen trousers, as if dressed for a lazy day outside of his “work”.

 

Hermione loved raspberries, which was why those bushes were there to begin with, once planted by her father, who also enjoyed Raspberries. She wanted to refuse them, but she was bright enough to know that refusing an offered item from a Death Eater would surely be highly rude.

 

Half-reluctantly, Hermione reached out and gingerly picked up one, trying to be careful as not to burst any of the juicy beads that would stain her skin for some time. She plopped it into her mouth and sighed as its sweet juice coated her tongue and she chewed until it slid down her throat and into her stomach satisfyingly.

 

“So you enjoy raspberries just as much as I do?” asked the Knight as he watched Hermione.

 

She grabbed her bookmark from beside her on the grass and placed it within the novel, closing it as she set it aside safely. There was no reading with him here.

 

He watched her, waiting for an answer.

 

Hermione put her hands together and looked down at her joined hands. “My mother doesn't want me talking to you, you know,” she told him softly.

 

“I assumed such,” he replied, offering her more raspberries. He had more in his other hand, which was a now-stained handkerchief cupped holding dozens of raspberries. The perfect afternoon snack.

 

“But do _you_ want to talk to me?” he asked next.

 

Was this a trick question?

 

“Not exactly,” was her answer.

 

The Knight's lips, which had never been curved before, tilted up at one corner.

 

**Of Speaking Terms and New Thoughts**

It was raining today and Hermione was confined to the house. She didn't know of any other better way to pass the time but to read. She holed herself up in the library, curled up in the corner of the couch with half a cup of a tea gone cold on the end table. She was deep into an Anne Rice novel when the Knight had made his way into the room.

 

“I was surprised to find the door unlocked until I saw you,” said the Knight as he walked over to the farthest bookshelf from Hermione, and pulled a book from it as if he knew exactly what he was looking for. He came over and motioned to the space next to Hermione.

 

“Do you mind if I sit?”

 

Hermione's legs slid off of the cushion and she sat straighter in the corner, almost like a bent stick.

 

“I didn't take you as a Rice kind of girl.”

 

Hermione couldn't help but look over at the Knight. Today he was dressed in all black. Black button-down shirt, black blazer, black trousers... The pure metaphor for the Dark magic he stood for.

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

He shrugged and opened his book, _The Odyssey._ “You were reading Austen the other day and you seem like the kind to go for light-hearted, soft-core romance.”

 

Hermione let out a short chuckle as if offended by such words, even though she wasn't offended at all. It was odd to be observed through the kind of books she read. It was odd to be observed at all by anyone other than her mother. People in the village only looked up to her family, who owned most of the land here at Hogsmeade. Hermione didn't have friends, aside from Ginny and her brother Ron who resided in her grandfather's house by the train station. She had always gotten along with them, even had been play buddies when she was younger when her mother feared Hermione would grow up with poor social standards and refused to keep her daughter holed up without a playmate or two.

 

It was so odd to speak with someone like this, even though it was a Commander Death Eater she was sharing words with.

 

“Soft-core romance,” she echoed, closing her book, _The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty_. She shook her head, a soft smile curling at her lips for only a mere moment. Tom caught it before it slipped away before his very eyes.

 

“Well, what other books do you enjoy?”

 

She shrugged, shaking her head as she looked around the library. Only half of the room contained her likeness of reading material, aside from the books that were her mothers, gifts from family members, books she planned to try out in the future when she wanted, and books her mother read off and on when she didn't feel like knitting or doing any needlepoint.

 

“Great Gatsby, Outlander, Hamlet, Jane Eyre, Persuasion, The Book Thief...”

 

The Knight slowly nodded his head. “No Hemmingway?” Hermione shook her head and Tom put his book aside, his attention focused on her solely. “I must say, I'm surprised with your books. Especially Gabaldon? Really?”

 

Hermione blinked and shook her head when she heard a tapping at the doorway.

 

Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up and saw her mother standing there, her lips set in an angry line.

 

Hermione said nothing to the Knight, got to her feat, and left the Knight behind.

 

**Of Disapproval and Glares**

The silence at the dining table that evening was unbearable. Usually the dinner would go with Mrs Granger complaining about how much she disliked the Death Eaters, even though that was dangerous in its own effect should the Knight over hear or worse, report them, but this dinner was new and different. A bitterness hung in the air and when their plates were almost clean of their dinner, Hermione had to set her silverware and look over at her mother.

 

“What have I done?”

 

Her mother, who was cutting through the last few pieces of her turkey, paused and looked over at Hermione.

 

“I thought I had told you not to talk to him,” she said quietly, angrily.

 

She had told Hermione that, many times as well. First when the Knight arrived, second just two days ago, and third now.

 

Hermione sat back in her chair, thinking her words over before she replied to her mother.

 

“He came and sat with me. He asked me about books.” A plead for the escape of her loneliness hung in her voice, but her mother dismissed it in an instance.

 

“You could have gotten up and left.”

  
“That would have been rude.”

 

Her mother got to her feet, the silverware clanging against the china angrily to where Hermione flinched, swearing the china would split in two.

 

“I'm going to go visit my sister.” The aunt Hermione despised.

 

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed, attempting to keep control of her emotions.

 

**Of Butterbeer and Marriage**

It was Hermione's little ritual to go to the Three Broomsticks Inn every other month for a glass of their famous one-of-a-kind Butterbeer. Lots of locals, teenagers and older, came and drank it happily. And while Hermione usually found girls her age, some still in school, and groups of elders crowded around tables, all drinking Butterbeer, but today, Death Eaters crowded the place, dressed in dark clothing, but not robes. While some villagers still came for the Butterbeer, the atmosphere was tense and unforgiving.

 

For the first time, Hermione wanted a Butterbeer to go, so she walked up to the faded wooden counter, smiled at the Inn's owner, and passed him a few galleons. She had been a regular, and her pretty face was recognizable all over the village. He knew her order already.

 

“To-go this time, please,” she told him as he called to the drink maker for the Butterbeer. He looked over at her with confusion at her new request.

 

“Why not stay and enjoy it with me?” came a male voice. She looked over at a Death Knight sitting near her at the old bars tool, looking her up and down as if she were some sort of candy.

 

Her nose visibly crinkled out without her discretion.

 

“Leave her alone, she's enjoying it with me,” came one that was familiar. She turned her head to the other side to see Tom sitting down with a pint of Butterbeer that looked to have only a few sips taken from it. He offered Hermione a friendly smile, a look in his eyes suggesting he was saving her.

 

The brute who had tried to flirt with her grumbled something under his breath and moved away from her.

 

“You sure you want it to-go?” asked the owner.

 

Hermione opened her mouth, ready to say “yes” when Tom answered for her. “She'll drink it with me.”

 

The owner eyed Tom a bit before eying Hermione for the legit answer. Eventually Hermione sighed and nodded her head, agreeing to share it with him. At least she'd enjoy talking to Tom without her mother glaring over her shoulder for talking to him.

 

Hermione got her Butterbeer and sat down at the bar stool next to Tom. If he could cause any trouble, at least they were in a public place.

 

“I'm surprised to see you out of your house,” he told her.

 

She shrugged and sipped at her Butterbeer, relishing the treat. “I come here every so often for a Butterbeer, regardless of what my mother has to say about it.”

 

The Knight nodded and took a swig of his. “I see.”

 

“What made you want to become a Death Eater?” Hermione flat-out asked him.

 

Tom choked at his Butterbeer a little bit at such a bold question. He sat the mug down and looked over at Hermione, his eyebrows fused together in question.

 

“My father was a Death Eater. It was expected of me,” he replied after composing himself from the shock of her question.

 

She looked down at her mug, playing with the perspiration growing at the glass.

 

“When did you become one?”

 

“Four years ago. Around the time I got married.”

 

“You're married?” Hermione hadn't realized how quickly she asked and she couldn't understand the strange feeling in her lungs at such a thought. Commander Tom Riddle, a Death Eater, married. The first Death Eater who doesn't seem like the others, who appear so stuck-up with the fact that they're all Purebloods.

 

Tom looked between Hermione's eyes for a moment, as if thinking. Wheels turned in his mind, Hermione could see, but what about had got her worried. She looked away and took a quick sip of her mug, trying to focus on the warm, buttery flavor of the cold drink.

 

“She must miss you,” said Hermione after some time.

 

Tom chuckled. It came out in a Dark fit of something sinister that made a chill run down Hermione's spine.

 

“She doesn't anymore.”

 

Hermione wasn't sure what she was feeling then.

 

**Of and Fits and First-Kisses**

It was late when Hermione was coming back from Ginny's with the rent money her mother had sent her for. She had stayed for a few drinks and laughter with her and her brother, but alas, she had staid too long.

 

The village was dark and quiet. Everyone was holed up within their house either sleeping or doing whatever they could to pass their time before they'd head off to bed. Hermione's foosteps and the sound of the night's crickets were the only thing she could hear, until she stopped at the sight of a few Knights, stumbling from the door of Hogshead, drunk and laughing morbidly.

 

Disgusted, Hermione picked up the pace.

 

But they had spotted her.

 

“Ay! Ay you! Yeah you! Pretty girl!” one slurred.

 

“Yeah, c'mon over here, we wanna see your face!”

 

She turned a corner, hearing their steps as they tried to advance on her, finding Tom headed her way.

 

She stopped for a moment, suddenly feeling very trapped.

 

Tom put his hands up. “Whoa. Is everything alright?”

 

He must have read her body language and the fear in her eyes that glowed in the moonlight.

  
“Ay!” called one of them again. Hermione turned with a nervous sigh and Tom looked past her.

 

The two turned the corner towards her and stopped at the sight of Tom.

 

“Whoa...lessgo, mate...” one slurred.

 

Tom glared at them darkly. “Head back to your assigned houses. _Now_ ,” he ordered. The two were off in the opposite direction in an instant, as if they feared Tom, or maybe they just respected him enough to follow his orders.

 

“Here, I'll walk you home.”

 

“Don't,” Hermione snapped.

 

Tom's stern face relaxed. “What?”

 

Hermione had the last straw of all of this.

 

“I don't need walked home. If you and _your kind_ weren't here, I wouln't _need_ walked home!” she hissed at him as she walked passed him, her shoulder purposely bumping into him roughly as if it would help her feel better. Tom followed in suit.

 

“What's that supposed to mean?”

 

She turned to him, her face contorted into anger and hatred. “You and your kind aren't exactly welcome here at Hogsmeade!” she nearly yelled.

 

Tom stopped walking when she had.

 

“You come parading in, claiming you can just waltz into our houses and take up what little space this small village has left until you all deem fit. It's pathetic and _flat out rude_.”

 

Tom's face suddenly twisted into disgust. “You think I like being with these people?” he asked.

 

Hermione's face slightly relaxed, but only just a hinge.

 

“I have nothing in common with these...these... _fools_. I don't want to parade around like I own the place, like the rest of these men do. I'm just _doing my job_. I'm doing what needs to be done in order for me to survive and keep my reputation with my family,” he stressed to her. “So don't take it out on me.”

 

Hermione had never thought she'd live to see a Death Eater angry at her, especially for something she's said. To be honest, she was surprised that this Knight hadn't even taken his wand out yet to curse her for disrespecting him and his kind like that.

 

Tom took a step close to her and Hermione was too angry to take a step back. She wasn't a cowardice.

 

“You are the only person, I have ever met...” he started as he took a step closer to her. “that I have anything in common with.” He looked into her eyes and Hermione shook her head up at him.

 

“No,” was all she said.

 

She turned to the opposite direction, ready to escape his intense gaze and his closeness when he grabbed her arm.

 

She paused for a second. He had never touched her like this before. Was he going to hit her? To threaten her? She waited for him to do something, cursing herself for leaving her wand back at home.

 

A moment ticked by before he yanked her to him, her body turning around in the process as she was ready to try and defend herself with her free arm. But no hit came. No threatening words. Only that same intense gaze and his lips on hers until she pulled back from him and slapped him. She watched his mind register the hit, but he only looked at her hungrily.

 

She didn't understand her feelings for him, until now.

 

**Of Sex and Silence**

The walk home was silent and confusing. What was Tom thinking? What was he feeling? Something didn't seem quite right between them, something unspoken and unknown and it drove Hermione mad knowing she wasn't able to figure it out.

 

When the two got home, the Hermione house was silent. No doubt her mother had already gone to sleep and Minerva was still out visiting her family she she usually does late Saturday evenings. She usually doesn't get back until in the middle of the night.

 

Tom motioned for Hermione to enter into the house first, and shakily she did, looking around at the quiet, dimly lit house. A few floating candles were left lit for Hermione and Minerva. Her mother might have had an opinion on what was popular, but she never messed with Hermione's time being social with others, no matter their status in society here in Village.

 

When Tom was in, Hermione closed the door for him, her hand on the door frame as she stared out through the curtains covering the window. It was such a gentle night and the kiss was still making Hermione's head swim.

 

Tom, who had his hood up, pulled his robes off as they disappeared into the dark smoke as usual. Hermione finally turned around after finally regaining her breath, finding Tom standing still as he looked around.

 

She couldn't help herself. She tugged on the sleeve of his shirt rather shyly, and he turned around with a question on his face until she cupped a cheek and kissed him. At first he was shocked for her to come onto him as thus, regardless of the kiss they had shared outside just earlier, but his hand grasped her waist and his other hand caught the frame of the archway that led into the family room as he pushed her back into it, keeping himself from crushing her as he kissed her back. Heavy breaths were the only things to be heard between the two as he made her gasp when his lips traveled down to kiss right where her jaw met her neck. Hermione had to keep herself from letting out a moan.

 

The kiss turned into something different from what it started out as. At first it was gentle and unsure, but now it was straight-forward and hungry. He kissed her hard, taking charge of it as he pulled her from leaning against the frame and pushed her into the family room until the back of her knees hit the edge of the soft couch cushion. She fell back, pulling back from the kiss as her bright eyes opened and she scooted into position as he came and crawled on top of her as her head rested safely against the pillow laying against the armrest. Tom's hand touched her thigh, just below the pal blue skirt of the dress she wore. Unlike most girls in town, Hermione preferred dresses, which was probably one of things that attracted Tom to her so much. His hand slipped beneath her thigh and found the top seam line of her stockings, their hearts racing madly together as their eyes caught. They barely even blinked, nor said a word as his hand found her underwear and pulled it aside as Hermione touched the buckle of his trousers, pulling it apart with violently shaking hands.

 

A part of her was screaming at herself. _What are you doing! He's a Death Eater! A **commanding** Death Eater! He's the enemy! His kind killed your father! He's the reason your kind is living in fear, in hiding!_

 

The other part blurred out such thoughts as she unbuttoned his pants. Tom let go of her underwear with one hand, the other keeping it aside as he guided himself inside her.

 

Her lips fell apart and her eyebrows knitted up together at the sudden feeling. Hermione had been a virgin and for many years, feared for her first time, imagining it to be as awkward and as painful as most everyone else she spoke with made it out to be. But this was by far much different than what they had described.

 

A small pinch of pain pulsed when he sunk into her as deep as he possibly. Good. A tiny, barely audible sound left her throat at the strange feeling, of the invasion and the odd satisfaction of being filled like that. He was hot, smooth, thick, and hard as a rock.

 

Tom let go of her panties and grasped her chin violently as if to say, _look at me_. She hadn't realized her eyes were squeezed shut until she opened up to see his usual intense look in this  eyes. For one who hadn't spent as much time with him as Hermione did, the _kind_ of time they spent together, they'd say he looked very crossed. But that was just his way of keeping himself as calm as possible despite the moment the two were share.

 

When the pain and gone and the strong pleasure replaced it as he began to move his hips, Hermione raised her legs and wrapped them around his. It seemed to have drove him mad with her doing so as his gentle thrust transformed into something primitive and hungry.

 

Hermione wanted to moan, her breath catching in her throat as she tried to swallow up the moan, the pleasure was too much. Tom managed to cover her mouth their eyes never leaving one another as his hips picked up the pace even more. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut again, but only for a moment before she made herself look up at the Knight again, the Knight who had just taken her virginity, the Knight she could have sworn she hated with all of her heart.

 

He waited for her to end with him and his hand was lucky to have been covering her mouth as she made a tiny whimper during the orgasm and the feel of him filling her, his hand muffling the sound perfectly.

 

 _What had I just done_.

**Of Tears and Decisions**

A few days passed and Hermione hadn't seen the Knight since the events that had taken place. Of course she heard him come and go at night, but never did he stay long enough for her to see him. It was almost as if he had been avoiding her.

 

One day, when it was raining, Ginny came in crying in hysterics, rambling on about Ron, her brother, using an unforgivable on one of the Death Eaters who was trying to flirt with her for the past few weeks since he began sharing the house with them.

 

It had all been a blur for Hermione to hear, never expecting Ron to be the violent type. But then again, Ron was more protective if anything. Hermione recognized that he'd do anything to protect the ones he cared about.

 

“You must help him out of the village, Hermione!” Ginny cried as Minerva urged her to sit down at the kitchen table, putting on a pot of tea immediately for boil as she readied a cup of fresh tea.

 

“I...what can _I_ do!” Hermione hissed. Even though Tom was gone for the day, there was still a chance that he could show up at any moment and over hear this. All of this was making her head spin and she was on the verge of running up and locking herself in her room to try and block out all that was happening.

 

“You can talk to your Knight! Everyone knows you two are on good speaking terms. I'm sure he'd help you out. I mean, the Knight's practically in love with you! I've seen the way he looks at you!”

 

Hermione rose a hand, her eyes closing as she furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head in denial. No, this was absolutely, positively _not_ happening.

 

“Please. When they find out, they'll kill him. And possibly me too! You have to help.”

 

“What's going on here?” came Tom's voice as he entered into the kitchen. It was almost as if he was checking to make sure Hermione was alright. His eyes landed on the wet red-faced girl sitting at the table, crying her eyes out and then to Hermione who stood at the table, her hands in white knuckled fists.

 

“Tom,” Hermione started. She had never addressed him before, never even tested out how he wished to be called by her, and even though he blinked at how she addressed him, he showed no signs of hostility of the disrespect.

 

“What is it?”

 

“I need your help,” Hermione quickly answered.

 

Ginny, still cry and sniffling as she accepted a handkerchief from Minerva and tried to dry her eyes, watched the two communicate.

 

Tom took a step into the kitchen, slightly turning his head, a question on his face.

 

“I need your help,” Hermione said again as she took in a shaky breath and held it as she finished, “with smuggling someone out of the village.”

 

“No one's allowed to leave the village.”

 

Hermione closed her eyes, nodding her head softly. “I...I know that, but.”

 

“What happened,” Tom asked Ginny directly.

 

“Ginny and her brother did something.”

 

Tom turned his body, his mouth open in shock as he readied to leave.

 

Hermione could be just as protective as Ron could. So she withdrew her wand and knocked Tom out before he could even leave the house. Hermione felt as if she was fighting herself. Was this really the right thing to do? Should she have really done that to Tom despite the moments they had shared together? For one moment, Hermione had thought she had even strong feelings for the Knight, maybe even _loved_ him. But it was in this very moment that she felt as if she had been awoken from a daydream.

 

Tom Riddle was a Knight. And he was the _enemy_.

 

“Let's get Ron.”

 

**Of Goodbyes and Disappointment**

Th road out of the village was quiet at night. Hermione's mother didn't even know where she was as Hermione had a bag packed of both her and Ron's belongings, a strong extendable charm placed upon it. If they could just get to the train station...

 

A charm was placed around the village by one of the Knights, keeping anyone from apparating out from the damned place. They even shut down the train station. If Hermione could just get outside the borders...

 

Two Knights guarded the road out the border at this time of night.

 

“Where do you think you're going?” asked one of them. The other chuckled darkly, finding it funny that the two presumed they could leave.

 

“We need to leave.”

 

“Why? No one's allowed to leave.” A Knight blocked their path as the other drew his wand.

 

“ _Move_ ,” Hermione warned.

 

The Knight blocking their path drew his wand and immediately, both Ron and Hermione drew theirs.

 

A few spells were cast, lighting up the darkness of the night with green, white, purple, orange, and blue lights that lasted for a few mere seconds as the four attacked one another. Ron, being as clumsy as he always is, didn't get to dodge a spell fully and got hit in his leg by a searing curse that left him feeling as if he had been shot.

 

Hermione covered him, managing to knock out the two Knights. Hermione fell to Ron's side, opening her bag with shaky hands as she reached in and searched for a healing potion when she heard one single set of footsteps.

 

Right as she was about to poor the potion onto Ron's wound, Hermione turned her head and found Tom, looking at the scene before his eyes.

 

Hermione poured the potion immediately and raised her wand to Tom.

 

“Don't do this, Hermione,” Tom warned, his eyes dark and his hands up in surrender to the threat her raised wand produced. “Don't,” he said again, but this time sharper.

 

Hermione kept her wand raised as she helped Ron to his feet, closing her bag and shoving it into Ron's hands. Her and Ron slowly backed out of the borders of the village.

 

“Hermione!” Tom called.

 

And all of a sudden, a small group of Knights showed up, their wands raised.

  
“Master, what do we do?” one of them asked.

 

It hit Hermione like a ton of bricks. _Master?_ Wasn't Voldemort supposed to be the only one called Master among the Knights? Was Tom...

 

“Lower your wands,” Tom hissed.

 

The group lowered their wands immediately.

 

“You lied to me,” Hermione said, blinking.

 

“That I did,” Tom called out to her, his eyes blinking slightly as if he wasn't exactly happy with himself for doing such to Hermione, but he kept on a strong, hateful face and it was clear to Hermione that she had spent that time, those moments, with Voldemort himself.

 

She had never hated anyone more in her entire life.

 

Hermione was about to apparate her and Ron out of the place when her lips turned down and a hateful look washed over her face. “At least I wasn't the only one sleeping with the enemy,” she called out to him.

 

A look crossed his face of confusion and puzzlement.

 

“In case you hadn't already realized this, I'm a muggle-born witch.” And with that, her and Ron were gone, regardless of what she had just said might do for her mother, who was all-in-all an innocent Muggle, useless to Voldemort and his followers.

 

Hermione left Tom standing there, his eyes watery and his face contorted with self-hatred for what had transpired between the two.


End file.
